nothing I couldn’t share with him. And so we became friends.

I no longer work for the school paper. James talked me into using the time I’d devoted to it for

taking art classes.

“I don’t give a shit about what your parents say. You can’t be a teacher, Casey,” he said. “You’re an

artist.”

So now when people ask me, “How can you like Foley? He’s an asshole,” I do as James would do. I

don’t try to defend him, because defending means admitting that there’s a point to an accusation. I just

shake my head and smile, and pass on Wittgenstein’s words that James so sarcastically quoted to me on

the day we met: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Chapter 3

Of Ants and Arrogance

JAMES: People and ants have a lot more in common than you might think. We like to pretend that

we’re independent, unique individuals, and ours is a free will to soar in the liberal Western society that’s

shaped according to our beliefs. What a bunch of crap. The objectives of the human society are exactly

the same as those of the ant society - survival, security, reproduction, defense, stability, and naturally,

perpetuation of the system.

University, like all parts of the educational system, does a pretty good job at teaching people what

really matters in life: success. Generously, it also shows you how to achieve that - by playing by the

rules. Parero ergo sum. You don’t need a totalitarian regime to oppress people. Nowadays we have peer

pressure and MTV.

There are always hip people, sporty people, smart people, freaks and losers, no matter where you go.

All the neat little social groups that you can never get out of. It’s interesting that the geeks hate the

popular crowd for being superficial and fake, but they’re still dreaming of belonging. I never got the

immanent logic in that, assuming that there is one.

Rizzo, though, Rizzo seems to defy all cliches, creating his own, and doesn’t fully belong to any of

them, and yet to them all. I guess you have that kind of freedom when you’re beautiful. Beauty gives

people a certain power, if they have the brains to use it to their advantage instead of getting used. Sadly,

Rizzo is not a complete bimbo.

I pretend not to notice as he saunters over. His motions are smooth, like a big cat approaching certain

prey. It looks like walking, but instead is a highly advanced art form. I force myself to look the other

way. I wonder, for the thousandth time, why does someone like him hang out with Casey and me?

“Foley. Got a smoke?” He sits down on the back of the bench beside me. Enthroned above me, all

hail the king of the world. Typical. As if I didn’t feel common and ugly enough in comparison anyway.

“I don’t smoke. You should know that by now.”

The tiniest of smiles flashes across his lips, but he just shrugs. In this light his eyes are so black you

can’t see the pupils. Dark chocolate. I wonder what that mouth tastes like. “You waiting for Mills?”

“What makes you think so?”

“Don’t you always?”

Great. He’s known me all of five minutes and thinks he’s already figured me out? Only that, judging

by the tone of his voice - Christ. I glance at him through narrow eyes. All alarms go off, and I freeze

inwardly. Does he know? Has he actually somehow, miraculously picked up on my feelings for Casey?

Rizzo cracks a sly smile that can probably get him laid anytime, anywhere, but I choose to ignore it.

I know it drives him nuts not to get any reaction. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s also none of your business.”

“You’re hopeless, Foley. Bordering pathetic. What’s the plan? To pine away forever? Why don’t you

two just get it over and done with?”

Okay. I think we can safely say that he knows. God help me. My heart sinks, and my mind begins to

race. What are the options? I could either try to deny it, or simply kill him. Both would confirm his

suspicion, the only difference being that the latter would give him less time to enjoy it. Now that’s just

great. I glance at him icily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. I’d be happy to repeat it if you need to hear it again.”

He looks at me with undisguised amusement. “I’m not much for repetition.”

“No kidding. Stay the hell out of my affairs.”

“Or what?”

“Or else.”

“I’m terrified, Foley.”

“As you should be.”

He chuckles, but there’s a dark flicker in his eyes. “You’re one arrogant ass, Foley, you know that?”

“And what are you then, Mother Theresa?”

“As long as precious Casey thinks I am.”

Cheeky bastard. This is just another one of the twisted little games he likes to play, isn’t it? Why

would he reveal to me that he’s figured out what I feel for Casey if not to deliberately make me suffer?

Like a cat, he loves to play with the mouse before he finishes it off. I wonder what Rizzo is waiting for,

because as much as it hurts to admit, I think Casey is lying beneath his paws already. There is nothing I

can do but stand on the sidelines and watch. And he knows, and he wants me to know that he does.

That’s the only reason he’s even talking to me.

Rizzo doesn’t talk about doing things. He just does them. It’s different with Casey and me. We have

meaningful conversations, and do nothing. I look into his eyes and he looks away, and then he looks

into my eyes and I look away. There are moments when my mind tricks me into believing that there is

some definite subtext in our friendship. But those moments pass, and I’m back to thinking that I must be

crazy to even consider the possibility. Tragically, it is an urban myth that all straight guys are potentially

gay. And yet, ever since Rizzo appeared on the scene, lines get blurred, and everything seems possible.

For him. Not me. And that hurts. He seems to trigger something in Casey that I never could. And that is

nothing short of a catastrophe. Casey is the first one to make me feel like I’m worth something, or even

special. And people like Rizzo have made me feel like worthless shit for way longer than I want to

remember.

Our eyes meet, he smiles at me, and for the first time it seems completely genuine. In this moment

he is so damn beautiful it’s almost hard to bear. I frown deeply. The amused little smirk returns to his

lips. Irritatingly, but undeniably inviting.

Well, color me stunned and pin a “kick me!” sign to my back. I suddenly have a sneaking suspicion

that Rizzo likes arrogant asses every now and then. And right now, that arrogant ass would appear to be

me.

Chapter 4

Truth Be Dared

JAMES: It’s too loud. Voices and music, thundering bass and raw guitars, all blending together until it

becomes nothing but a mess of undistinguishable noise. I hate when it’s loud. I don’t like parties,

because I don’t like being in crowds. Did I mention that it was Rizzo’s stupid idea to come?

I lean back in the shabby old armchair I somehow managed to get hold of, and sigh deeply. The

upholstery stinks of cold cigarette smoke and something disgusting I don’t recognize. Holding on to my

beer, I survey the room, watching people come and go, wondering why they can never stand still. I’m a

bit dizzy, but not quite drunk enough to not care. Casey is nearby, talking to a perky red-head with

funny freckles. He knows her from one of his classes. She’s not his type.

I’m mesmerized by the way his lips move when he speaks. I once overheard two chicks talking

about him, saying how kissable he is. Kissable. I don’t think that is even a word. But it’s true all the

same.

Rizzo is on the other side of the room, surrounded by the usual cluster of fangirls. Pathetic. Do they